Stripper
by juliasejanus
Summary: Alex had a new life in London. Free from exploitation by MI6, living under the radar as a stripper. Then his past life as a spy catches up with him.
1. Chapter 1

Another set over, 2am and Alex was finally on his way home. Luckily none of the John's wanted a private dance. Alex was knackered.

Alex's life was now completely under the radar. He working for a hood who ran a club in Soho. Marco had picked Alex up when he lived on the streets. Running away had been a particularly shit decision on Alex's part, but he'd reached the point that he had actually considered topping himself. Eight months previously the Pleasures had returned to England for Christmas and Alex had just left, sick of shrinks and the pitying looks.

Marco's club was part of the BDSM scene, Alex's scarred body fitted in after Marco had showed him how to be a good submissive. Alex was very good at keeping still, he didn't mind being hit, hurt, gagged or tied up. It was all rather tame really.

Everyone at the club never questioned his age, he was 19 on his fake ID, not his actual age of 16. Alex had started college three days a week doing A Levels. He was still expecting MI6 to turn up, but fuck them. He'd already made plans with Marco, made contacts for working in other clubs in Milan, Berlin or Paris in case he had to run. He was just a piece of meat to the people here.

He lived with two girls, who worked as escorts. Trisha was home, an unusual event for a Saturday night/Sunday morning "Your date not turn up?" enquired Alex.

Trish actually laughed, "Bloody teenage virgin, I got my fee for precisely 40 minutes and three fucks. If only every night was this easy. Did you make much?"

"Enough" Alex had already made enough this week to make this months rent and bills, the next two and a half weeks were pure profit, hidden away for his get out quick safety net. "See you in the morning, no make that afternoon. I'm completely shagged."

"Of course you are. Been in the back room tonight?" Trisha loved to get all the details of what the sick fucks wanted.

"No. Just my sets. Thank God" said Alex as he retreated to his room.

With the lights, dark room and loud music. Alex was on stage kneeling as George threatened him with a large whip. Alex reacted when the whipped cracked, suggesting agony. This set always made money. Alex was blindfold, gagged, nude and hard, his hands tied behind him. George was in a PVC gimp suit and totally intimidating at 6'5" and huge.

George tried to engage Alex in conversation afterwards. He'd been a social worker before he'd gone into the entertainment business. He'd noted that Alex was a loner, his body too scared to be explainable even if into the scene, which the kid wasn't, and totally uninterested in relationships. Someone had abused and broken the kid. George was sure he was underage as well despite the worldly attitude and muscled body. Alex ignored the twenty questions until Marco called Alex into his office.

"I have a problem." Marco asked in a low serious voice.

Alex was worried "Someone been asking about me?"

"No, no, Alex." Marco then stood up and sat on the edge of the desk, his body language open and non-threatening. "You know I have fingers in many pies, well a russian colleague has requested entertainment. I have to deliver. Either I pick up another kid off the streets or you could earn a couple of grand by wearing school uniform and pretending to be about sixteen and clueless." Marco knew Alex owed him and Alex was game for anything, but this was stretching Alex's careful boundaries. "I know you don't do anal intercourse but this is a special favour."

Alex closed his eyes. Marco came up to him and gently touched Alex's arm. "We have all put two and two together. You've survived a fucking awful childhood. I won't ask for anything from you again. Most of the other strippers are into the scene. Maybe you can move over to security after this as a break from the sickos."

Alex stared at the tacky art on the wall before looking at the floor "For you Marco OK. I might be a bit of a headcase if this mafiyaski is a total bastard."

"I swear it'll be a nice private clinic, paid for my myself if he does a number on you." Marco smiled meaning every word.

"This guy must be something to have you running around." Alex never asked Marco any details when he was asked to drop things off, pick something up, check out a location for surveillance or some other simple task. This job was just the same. If Marco was running scared the less Alex knew the better.

"You know I don't use kids." Alex wondered at this, reminded of another dangerous man from Alex's dim and distant past. No, Alex had not been an innocent kid since Ian died. He'd almost lost his humanity after Jack had been murdered. His life had slowly been brought back under control thanks to Marco. Many moons ago, Marco too had been a homeless kid, working his way up from drug runner to crime boss with his own turf in south-west London.

Alex dreaded the answer to his next question as he watched as Marco shifted his body language to display a slight nervousness "Is it tonight?"

"You can use my private shower, there's clean razors, toothbrushes and the like in there. No aftershave nor scents. Do not prepare yourself either. You have to be nice and tight." Marco said again all business.

"Don't worry I am, just like a virgin" Alex shivered at the thought of going all the way. He knew it was only a matter of time before he'd have be asked to. He'd actually expected to do some hardcore porn film. Marco had always assumed Alex had been fucked by a complete bastard not that he was a virgin. While on the streets he'd sucked cock and done hand jobs but never anal intercourse. Some had tried to intimidate him but Alex could look after himself and after putting three guys in the hospital nobody pushed him again.

Alex looked at himself in the school uniform Marco had supplied. Alex in this disguise looked scarily young. Marco handcuffed, blindfolded and gagged Alex to add to the charade of a misused school kid.

Alex decided against sniveling and went for false bravado, always his preferred modus operandi. His blindfold and gag were removed to reveal a penthouse with views over the city. Marco and Gerald the bouncer-cum-heavy were flanking him.

The Russian hood came in the room and Alex almost collapsed. His shocked gasp was echoed by the surprise in the assassin's eyes. A gun appeared in an instant and Alex jumped forward shouting "Wait, wait, Yassen. I work for Marco. I agreed to this. Please don't kill them. Its all cool, OK?"

Yassen looked at Alex and cocked his head. "Mr. Spinelli, you have exceeded my expectations, I'll be keeping your gift. You may go."

As the hoods left, Marco dropped the handcuff keys on the floor. Alex was waiting for Yassen to order him to strip or kneel, but the russian just watched intensely before asking "Are you still a virgin, little Alex?"

"I wanked and sucked people off, but never had anal intercourse either as top or bottom. I've never got beyond groping and kissing with girls." Alex answered truthfully.

"You have been on the streets?"

"I was. I've worked for Marco for nearly eight months. Stripping mostly."

"But you also allow people to touch you, to hurt you."

"I have no problem with pain. Its like an old friend." Alex knew he could be opening a can of worms with that statement, for all he knew Yassen could be into torture.

Yassen left the room, when he came back in he skirted around behind Alex. The next thing the young man knew was the cloth on his nose and mouth and the russian's stone hard lean body and other arm pinning him as unconsciousness took him.

It had been four days since Alex had disappeared. Trisha was worried. She knew Alex made too much money to just be a stripper. Alex had left his ID behind on the kitchen table. She sat in his room and was shocked by how little Alex owned. The majority of his possessions were his newly bought stationery and text books. There was nothing personal. Trish made her decision and put on her coat and went to Westminster Police Station.

"So your flat mate has not come home for four days. His name.." enquired the incident officer, having already gotten Patricia Morcroft's name and address.

"Alexander Schmidt. About nineteen. 1.78m tall, white, blond (natural), brown eyes. He has scars on his body. Burn scars on his back and a funny white scar on his chest, just above his heart."

The Detective looked at the ID, an international driving licence, which was worn and broken. The picture had been crudely stuck in. It was a crummy fake, not even a quality forgery. The cop was sure the missing young man had done it himself. The CID officer then looked through the other handful of photos. The kid looked familiar but he could not put a name to the face. At some point he had crossed paths with this boy. The photos were scanned and put on the system. Chris Dennis did not expect to get any hits without knowing some more details. Whoever this kid was, Chris hoped his family noted he was missing and called it in.

The new missing person report was noted at Interpol and the officer filing the casework immediately noted a match. Jules Santiago's younger brother had disappeared eight years ago. Christoph had probably been picked up by some sick fuck and likely long dead. Each case was personal to him. He was a driven and lived for his job. Alexander Schmidt matched Alex Rider. The kid was on top of his intray with the with three security alerts on his file. No wonder the investigator remembered this kid. Jules dutifully called it in.

Trish opened her door to a dark haired, suited stranger who flashed an ID too fast for her to read. She answered the questions and then left Mr. Daniels to search Alex's room. She had told him Alex was very private, no boyfriends were ever invited round.

Ben carefully started his thorough search of the room. Alex's passport and a load of cash were the only finds concealed. Alex was not into drugs and appeared to be trying to study for A Levels. Trish had given the name of the club Alex worked for. It was likely Alex has been involved in more than just taking off his clothes judging by the savings he had amassed. Ben felt old and tired it looked like at 16 Alex stripped and worked as a rent boy. Being young was a bonus in that business.

Marco Spinelli was a well known as a slippery bastard. Marco was all smiles and business as the two gentlemen pretending to be police questioned him about Alex. Alex had warned Marco of his checkered past and that he'd crossed paths with the type of people who never to let you go. Marco never questioned whether it was some cult, mafia or worse. Considering Alex had known that Russian dude it was definitely worse. These stony faced men talked of an Alex Rider, 16, a mentally disturbed runaway. Marco was sure his guests were about to leave when photos of Marco and his russian contact were produced.

"Look I was only contracted to provide some guy with entertainment. He wanted something very specific. Young blond, inexperience London kid and Alex agreed to go. I thought the bastard was going to kill me OK, but he took Alex as a gift. You know the score. Alex is as good as dead. I checked out the apartment the next day. It was completely clean."


	2. Chapter 2

Yassen watched Alex's drug induced sleep. He had closely observed the boy during their short question and answer session in London. It was if someone had completely destroyed the strong spirited boy the russian had encountered over two years ago. Yassen had only a brief knowledge of the fall of Scorpia after the death of Max Grendel and his own imprisonment on Gibraltar. Yassen had known Alex had stopped working for MI6 the previous summer. He had been fostered by that journalist Edward Pleasure, but that had ended abruptly when Alex had disappeared last December. To Yassen's dismay John's son had been on the streets then working for that sleaze Marco Spinelli. Alex had lived with Marco for six weeks before moving out to rent a room with those two 'escorts'. Such a polite word for whores. Alex's life reflexed Yassen's own on the streets of Moscow and progressing to doing jobs for the Mafia.

The dacha was in the forests 40kms south of Moscow, previously the home of of some party apparatchik. It was isolated and luxurious. Yassen had amassed a small fortune working for Scorpia and various mafia cartels around the world. He worked on very specialised jobs. He was very successful removing problems. He had been freed from Scorpia's control and had returned to Russia. He still had his contacts but was truly freelance.

Alex in that apartment had been willing to do anything for Marco Spinelli. Give his virginity away as a favour. Yassen would personally torture all that had allowed Alex to fall so far and so fast.

Alex woke and started to retch. He was unrestrained and naked in a large bed, alone. He rolled over and vomited bile on the floor. Alex rolled back to lie flat not opening his eyes. He then noted the drip in his arm. He must have been asleep for quite a while. He felt wretched. Someone placed a cool cloth on his forehead and Alex was helped to sit up and a cold glass touched his lips. Beautiful cool water, he tried to gulp but that voice deep even emotionless told him to sip. He obeyed automatically. He then opened his eyes to see the azure blue of Yassen's irises staring at him intently. Alex smiled weakly and asked "Have I been ill?"

"You reacted to the sedative. You were ill coming round." Alex then closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

When Alex woke again, he saw Yassen stir in the chair beside the bed. Alex felt better. Saline still dripped into his arm. Yassen stroked his face and smiled as he saw Alex was more himself. "I will get you some light broth. You need to eat."

Alex was bewildered. Yassen treated him with kindness and had spoon fed him thin beetroot soup and then settled into the bed beside Alex, after removing the drip.

Yassen then told Alex of his own imprisonment and Alex's only comment was that he was glad Yassen had escaped. For the russian, looking at little Alex was now like looking at a copy of himself at sixteen. Jaded, closed, broken. Meeting Hunter had been the making of Yassen, giving him his chosen path in life. Yassen mourned the loss of the young spy he had met in March 2001. Then again life in general had been simpler then. It was a different world now. Working for the Mafia was better than for terrorists. Being classified as a Terrorist put you on top of a hit list for all civilised countries. Straight to kill on sight.

Alex saw how Yassen was relaxed. "Is this your home?"

"Yes." Yassen confirmed simply. Alex shifted to face Yassen, trying to read the man.

"You own me." Alex said simply.

"Yes." the russian said stoically.

"If it had just been some other kid Marco had delivered would you have just fucked them?" Alex asked trying to understand Yassen's motivations. A man last time they had met had told Alex he loved him.

A frown passed across Yassen's face. "I feared you had killed yourself. You disappeared so completely."

"I had no one to miss or mourn me. You haven't answered my question." Alex asked in a hard tone not really caring at pushing this dangerous man.

"I have needs. I was after some R and R after a hard and unpleasant job. Marco was paid a lot of money for his services. He runs a score of brothels and pimps." The russian stated this as a matter of fact. He had paid for sex to satisfy his physical needs.

"I know just what type of person Marco is. He took me in when I was at my lowest point. He liked how I defended two of his girls at Kings Cross. Bunch of guys were after a free ride." Alex smiled remembering the large thugs laughing when they told the nancy boy he'd get his as well. Alex had been unnecessarily cruel dealing with them, breaking bones, smashing knees with ease.

"I never expected to find you Alex. If I had known you wanted out I would have come for you. I thought you had family with Sabina." Yassen's lip curled in distaste remembering that girl, whom Alex had given his heart to.

Alex snorted in laughter. "I fucking hated California. The psychiatrist was a complete bitch. I started to talk of MI6 and she did not believe me. So I clammed up, I spoke to Sabina but got to the part where the CIA waterboarded me, but guess what. She called me a liar." Alex paused. "They thought I was psychotic and delusional turning friends into enemies. That and Sabina started spreading lies about me in school, by Christmas I left. Living on the street sucked, but I survived by stealing and selling myself."

Genuine concern crossed Yassen's face "I too lived like that. I made a mistake sending you to Scorpia. I thought you would thrive there."

"I did. Just Julia Rothman saw me as a living embodiment of Hunter's betrayal."

"So you know they were lovers." Yassen said in a whisper.

"I've been told so many versions of the events surrounding Hunter's death. It was Ash who killed him and my mother. Leave it at that. He's dead so its a closed book." Alex said with finality.

Yassen mused on this. "Yes it is the past. Do you want to make a future here with me?"

"You said you loved John and that you loved me. As friend, family or lover?"

"I will not deny my desire for you, Little Alex". Yassen's eyes were no longer cold and emotionless. Desire and lust were two emotions Alex understood well. Love that was like smoke, an illusion. He moved to kiss Yassen and was surprised by the passion and intensity of the resulting embrace. "Little Alex, you are playing with fire. If I take you, I will keep you."

"Take me." Alex said. The fire and possession from this man could maybe unfreeze his own heart.

"You have never fucked. It will be uncomfortable."

Alex looked at Yassen and shrugged. "You already own me. I am yours."

Yassen's pace was steady and he spent time to bring Alex to orgasm as he fingered him. Showing Alex the amazing pleasure of stimulation of your prostate. Alex was moved to kneel and he gasped as Yassen pushed into him. Slowly, burning and breaching until he was fully seated. Yassen angled to make Alex buck and shudder. The man was as controlled fucking as with everything else. Alex was lost to sensation as he was brought to orgasm again. His climax causing Yassen to drive wildly into the boy spilling his hot release before collapsing exhausted beside Alex.

Alex lay face down on the bed and was almost asleep; when he noted Yassen touching his arse and playing with the leaking semen. Fingers pushed into his hole again. An object was then pushed into Alex. Yassen then explained. "You will be more prepared for the next time we fuck if you stay loosened."

Alex was too tired to think of his future. Life had narrowed down to being gawped at and, by those with enough money, to being touched. This was no different, just one owner rather than the round robin of sick bastards.


	3. Chapter 3

Edward Pleasure put the phone down and rubbed his eyes. The update from Interpol was not hopeful. Edward now knew that Alex had run away last December with no back-up plan. He'd been on the streets and had been picked up by Marco Spinelli, a hood known for taking in runaways and offering them work as thugs or whores. It sounded like Alex had been sold as a teenage virgin to a rich russian pedophile. Alex, when he lived with them, had been aloof and had shied away from all contact and comfort. The boy had withdrawn into himself and become cold and emotionless. Therapy had been an utter disaster after the shrink had told Alex off for lying. Alex's relationship with Sabina also cooled to the point they were strangers, rather than friends or family.

Edward had gotten hold of Harry Bulman's extensive files detailing Alex's work for MI6 and others, which listed operations at Port Tallon, the French Alps, Cuba, the whole mess with Damian Cray, Alex running off to join Scorpia and then Arkangel. Edward knew there had been other, missions, something had happened to Alex after the accident in Scotland, when Alex had been badly burned. The strong independent, lovely boy that had befriended his daughter had been destroyed by the events in Egypt. The culmination of over a years abuse by MI6. Alex had told Edward about Cairo. Razim had been an internationally recognised terrorist and war criminal. Tried in absentia in Iraq and sentenced to death. Edward had decided he would go to London and follow Alex's trail, try and talk to Marco Spinelli.

Edward returned to another open document on his computer and began to put the finishing touches to his piece on Child Trafficking and Prostitution. A problem all over the world that had now touched his family. He had personalised the piece with just generalised details of Alex's descent from perfectly normal 14 year old to fifteen year old depressed and alienated runaway falling foul of the seedier elements of London's underbelly.

Edward lastly checked his mail. Tom and Jerry Harris had separtely posted enquiries for updates. There was a message from Dieter Sprintz. The reclusive billionaire had suggested a large reward for information and an even larger amount of money for the return of Alex. Then there was a cryptic message from a strange hotmail account. Edward then realised the words were crossword clues. It took him 40 minutes to decipher that _Alexander sold Russian Assassin Air Force One_. Edward's blood ran cold. Yassen Gregorovich was alive. The man who had threatened to cut off his daughter's finger's had survived Damian Cray's bullet.

Edward hated travelling alone, he had persuaded Liz and Sabina to take a holiday and they were relaxing at a five star resort in Hawaii, while he worked. Edward's first port of call was to interview the woman who had reported Alex missing. Patricia Morcroft worked as an escort based at an agency owned by Marco Spinelli, renting a flat also owed by the same man. They met for lunch at the Ivy. Alex's room had already been cleaned out and they had a new flatmate, another girl. Trisha was lovely and friendly, formerly in care, saving money to go to university. She spoke of a quiet, neat and clean flatmate who was very private and who disliked his work but it was a means to an end. The pay was good. She had then looked nervous and stated Alex did more than strip. He did other jobs for Marco. He would go out at odd times. He only worked the club on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Trisha then added that Alex had lived with Marco. "You know Marco. He likes his boy toys quiet, well behaved and submissive. He fucks girls but gets off on boys. Marco liked Alex."

Edward mused on this. "Do you think Marco would talk to me?"

"Be honest with Marco. Tell him about Alex. His an OK guy if you're straight with him." explained Trisha. "You know Alex is probably dead."

"Yes. But I have to know. He was a great kid. I want to understand what went wrong. We tried to help him, but we failed to connect." Edward then said goodbye to the girl. Neither of them had eaten very much of their lunch.

Marco read the files the journalist had handed over. "This is for real?"

"Yes. The notes on Cairo and about Damian Cray are word for word from Alex." Edward explained. "The other notes are from Harry Bulman, a journalist who disappeared last year."

"MI6 blackmailed a kid to work for them. This is fucking unbelievable. Horrific even. Jesus. Alex was running from them. Where the hell does this russian fit in?"

"Assassin. Former Scorpia. Now takes contracts from anybody and everybody. The week he was in England, a former KGB man was poisoned in Oxford. Nasty slow death. You gave Alex to Yassen Gregorovich. Alex met him at least four times in 2001." Edward noted the thoughtful expression on Marco's face.

"You fostered Alex?" Marco had checked out Edward Pleasure. The man had survived a bombing in France two years ago. Marco had read his book on Damian Cray. The club owner had not expected such an exchange of information.

"Yes. Alex hated San Francisco. He had an awful time at High School. I think he was very depressed when he ran away." Edward looked heartbroken, his failure to help Alex prayed on him.

"What do you want from me?"

"Any information you have. First tell me about Alex. Trisha said you liked him."

Marco smiled. "He was a firecracker. I first saw him at Kings Cross. He was hustling, picking pockets. Three of my girls had asked for protection. Their pimp had been arrested. Four guys were threatening them. I was about to sort it out, you know. When Alex, looking like a frail kid confronted them allowing the girls to back up. I don't know what was said to him but I think they threatened to rape him. He was brutal. Two of them ended up needing parts of their legs to be reconstructed. I offered him a place to stay. He was jumpy as hell. After three days he settled down and we got on. I never fucked him, but he had no objections to BDSM. He was a hard worker. I wanted to move him up. Protection you know. He never asked questions. He reminded me of myself. " Marco smiled. "You have contacts in Moscow?"

"Yes, a few." Edward said cagily.

"Antonin Brushkin hired me to supply that Yassen bloke with an 16 year old white virgin with blond hair and brown eyes."

Edward collected together his files "Thank you for your help."

"Two creeps from that MI6 were here. I didn't tell them about Antonin. You find Alex. I'll pay for his medical expenses OK. I promised to look out for him. " Marco then looked at Edward. "Odds are he's pushing up daisies."

"Alex is very resourceful. I hope his luck has not run out. Thank you again Marco. I'll let you know what I find out." At that Edward left, he had a trip to Moscow to plan.


	4. Chapter 4

Interpol Case File 2003/59459

Missing Person: Alexander John Rider AKA Alexander Schmidt

DOB 13/02/1987

Height 1.78m

Weight 85kg

Description Blond Hair, Brown Eyes

Distinguishing marks: bullet scar entry wound upper left hand side chest, exit wound left armpit; extensive burn scars covering entire back, birthmark on upper right shoulder blade

Last seen London 24th August 2003

This file arrived at Russian Federal State Security and was passed to the Head of Internal State Affairs Division 2, Mikhail Boderenko. The photograph showed a blond, thin, very handsome young man. Probably the most recent photo of Alex. Mikhail recognised the boy he had met and interviewed in 2001. The teenage english spy who had foiled the attempted coup by Alexei Sarov. A hero. An attached note stated he had been sold to Yassen Gregorovich. There was one man no one even in State Security would want to cross. The name was an alias. If the assassin owned property in Russia it would be disguised under a trail of companies set up since Perestroika. Mikhail had been impressed by Alex when he had refused a medal. Better to have State Security still owing you a favour just incase you needed it. Mikhail placed the file on the intray of the new probationary investigator's desk. He would wait for a more positive proof that the boy was alive. Gregorovich had been high up in Scorpia. Alex had probably been tortured to death for his exploits bringing that organisation to its knees.

Alex woke and was ravenously hungry. His stomach growled. His mouth was dry, but it was always the same during a long distance flights. Alex quite liked the luxury of traveling by business jet. He'd even had a few flying lessons from Yassen. Alex stretched and moved to look in the small refrigerator. Sandwiches, fruit salad and sushi. All of Alex's favourites. Alex moved to make coffee for the pilot.

Yassen took the offered coffee and smiled. "We'll be landing in Ecuador in two hours. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. Do you want anything?"

"Umm sandwich."

"Sure thing boss." Alex added cheekily. Three months ago Alex would never have expected to be relaxed and settled into the assassin's routine, but here he was just that. Yassen had proved to be nothing like the man he expected. The cold emotionless exterior had melted to show a caring and talented lover. Alex knew he wanted more from him and Alex was happy to oblige. Yassen was a patient man above all else. He had proved this by his treatment of a damaged emotionally scarred ex spy. Alex had left everything behind.

Alex had enough training with Scorpia to act as partner to Yassen when he was working. These times Yassen was completely professional, but he also did not include Alex in certain less savory aspects of his work. The job in Ecuador was information retrieval using Scorpia methods developed by Dr. Three. Alex shuddered think about cold cruel hard Yassen.

They arrived at a luxurious compound owned by the head honcho of some drug cartel. Yassen refusing the bevy of attractive females provided by their host had been amusing, as had the slow realization of the man that Alex was Yassen's entertainment. Alex had stood as the odious oik had approved when Yassen had commanded Alex to kneel. Alex had grown to love it when the Russia dominated and commanded him. Alex had knelt, hands behind him and perfectly still for all to see. Carlos Mendez had oogled the boy completely at the command of his hired interrogator.

"Is the boy just a toy?" asked the drug baron.

Yassen had almost laughed. "He is a fully trained assassin. Not just warming my bed but my partner. He trained at Malogosto, like I did." Scorpia may be a thing of the past but their operatives were respected for the excellent work and high standards.

Alex checked out their room. He noted the bugs and the crude video surveillance. Yassen watched as Alex swept the room smiling as Alex's face contorted with disgust. "Are all your clients voyeurs?" spat Alex as he knelt next to Yassen. His voice soft and low enough not to be picked up by the bugs.

Yassen stroked Alex's hair and then questioned. "Do you want something different tonight?"

Alex stroked his cheek on Yassen's thigh. "Its just with the interrogation tomorrow. We've never done the full BDSM thing. I want you to dominate me tonight."

"Do you want me to hurt you?" Yassen whispered as he bit on Alex's ear lobe.

Alex hissed and gasped out a long "Yess, please."

Alex remained kneeling as Yassen opened one of their bags. Manacles, a spreader bar, a flogger and blindfold were removed as well as condoms and lubricant. Alex even with his head lowered submissively continued to watch through his lowered eyes as Yassen stripped off his clothes and arranged his tools. Before he commanded Alex to lay on the bed still fully clothed. Yassen would remove each item of clothing slowly and carefully exposing Alex's flesh. Alex lay as Yassen studied him in detail. Mapping his body. Alex knew Yassen would mix pain and pleasure building to fuck Alex brutally.

The guard watched the video feed from the guest suite. The russian was beating the boy he had brought with him. The guard was more interested in the two girls putting on a show for his boss.

Alex swam in the large swimming pool before breakfast. He wore a pair of scandalously brief speedos purchased by the assassin to show off Alex's lean and now bruised body. Yassen was stretching and exercising using a strange mix of tai chi and other techniques. Alex guessed the russian had trained in ballet in his earlier life. Watching Yassen was making him hard, not a thing you could hide in these shorts. Alex wondered if Yassen would punish him. The thought of cold brutal Yassen made him harder. Today was going to be ardous. Yassen was already in his professional frame of mind for work. Alex was still a hormonal, continually horny teenager. Alex wondered who was getting interrogated and what questions the oik they were working for would be asking. Yassen had been brought in because the guy had nor spoken or broken using more crude techniques. Yassen had been given carte blanche to use what ever methods necessary no matter how unorthodox.


	5. Chapter 5

Alex stood behind Yassen. The pair of them both wore black combats and loose black shirts. Similar to what Yassen had worn the first time Alex had seen him in Cornwall, several lifetimes ago.

The room was basic with three chairs and a table. Yassen instructed the guards to procure hot water, soap, clean towels, medical supplies, blankets and two folding beds. Yassen then looked at Alex as if judging him before instructing the boy in russian "You will do everything I say, when I say it. You will submit to any punishment I see fit and you will not disobey me."

Alex stood perfectly still and nodded before vocalising his complete agreement "Yes sir. Anything you say." Yassen then stroked Alex's face, not caring of the odd look the guard was giving them.

Yassen leaned in and kissed Alex's ear and down his throat before whispering "Now, our guest should be arriving any minute. I want you to kneel and show me how much you love my cock."

The guest was dragged into the room and the first thing he noticed was his new interrogator, the specialist hired in from Europe. The prisoner took in the details of a tall, elegant figure, poised and controlled even with his head thrown back, as another man sucked his dick. Mark Dooby noticed the cold blue eyes in slits taking everything in. Mark was a DEA agent and was in way over his head. He'd been here three weeks and had not let on who his contacts were, even after they tortured his contact Raoul to death, the friend who had betrayed him. He was bone tired, covered in sores, bruises and burns and had not eaten properly in days. He was held up by the guards and watched as the man silently came and his assistant swallowed.

It was then the assistant stood up and Mark saw it was a kid, no older than sixteen or seventeen. The blond haired youth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood looking at the floor, avoiding eye contact. The older guy then started giving orders in smooth accentless Spanish. The youth walked forward and helped Mark to a chair. The guards were instructed to go outside. The man then switched to russian, the kid then pulled out a short knife and Mark shied away, but the boy spoke in soft Castilian spanish. "I'm just removing your clothes I need to appraise your injuries and if you have any infections."

With a firm but gentle movements the youth cut away the filthy clothes. Supplies had arrived and Mark sat still as he was washed and his injuries dressed. Mark only cast brief glances at the boy, his attention was firmly on the man with the cold eyes and expressionless face.

Mark lay on the bed as his back was cleaned and dressed. The boy spoke again to ask if Mark wanted to clean his privates. At this the Russian seemed amused, but he spoke again in harsh tones at his assistant or apprentice. The young man left and Mark was alone with his tormentor.

Alex walked across the compound to the kitchen area he had seen when they arrived. He smiled at a large woman, who proceeded to pinch his cheek and call him a beautiful angel. He asked very politely for three meals and some beverages. He loaded a tray with the plates of rice and beans and shoved bottles of locally made soda into the pockets of his cargo pants and returned to the room, their home for the foreseeable future.

Yassen was still observing the subject when Alex returned. He watched as Alex set the table and awaited instructions.

Mark was instructed to join them in their meal. He began to eat with wild abandon, when the boy stopped him. "You will vomit it all back up if you continue. Eat slowly, chew each mouthful fully." The boy said this looking at Yassen. Mark suddenly had an uneasy feeling that whoever this kid was, someone had broken him. Mark continued to look at the other man, who was the likely candidate for doing it.

The boy was instructed to sleep. After his soft snores rose, Yassen spoke for the first time to the captive. "I am Cossack. The boy is Sasha. I have been instructed to retrieve information from you after you failed to break under standard procedures. I trained with Dr. Three of Scorpia and Sasha ..." The russian then paused for the moment, "Sasha was under the tutelage of Razim, the Iraqi Head of Interrogations."

Mark did not understand what he was being told. He just sat silently as the man spoke. "You are a very strong individual. Do not think Sasha will help you. Sasha belongs to me and me alone. My first lesson will instruct you of this."

Yassen then stood up and collected himself. He had played this scenario with Hunter, many years ago. Alex had been fascinated to learn that his father could interrogate and torture. Manipulation was the key. Yassen kicked the bed Alex was sleeping on. Alex was awakened and kneeling on the floor by Yassen's feet in an instant.

"Strip" Yassen whispered in English.

Alex peeled off his clothes, folding each item carefully until he was again knelt awaiting instructions.

"Stand up and face our guest."

Alex complied straight away. "Hands behind you."

Yassen secured Alex's wrists with a plastic cable tie. Yassen then walked to face Alex before back handing him brutally. The captive watched as force of the blow sent the boy tumbling to the floor. Sasha then stood up a livid red mark on his cheek. Yassen then caressed the punished flesh. Before wanking the boy off.

Mark was horrified as the boy began to beg. "Please let me come. Please Cossack." The boy was speaking in English. He knew that accent. The kid was from London.


	6. Chapter 6

The interview subject was unconscious. He'd gone through three rounds of questioning under varying strengths of sodium thiopental. The man had lets several details slip. Cossack was quite pleased with progress. He was never brutal unless real speed was needed. The weeks prior had effectively worn down the subjects resistance. Alex had been present for all the sessions, silent, observing and learning the craft.

Yassen looked at Alex as he sat and played cards on the table. "Tell me about Marco. Why did you work for him?"

Alex sat up to look at the russian, a thoughtful expression on his face, "Being on the streets was a steep learning curve. I could pick pockets, pick locks, steal cars. I was already a petty criminal. Just a street kid. It was December and fucking cold, I sucked cock to earn enough money for a B&B. At least two or three times a week. Squats were dry but still fucking freezing. I hung around Kings Cross mostly, relieving travelers of their dosh. I got to know some of the girls who worked locally, mostly they were young and new like me. I picked a fight with some rugger buggers who were hassling Natalie and a few of her friends. The bastards thought they could teach me a lesson I'd never forget. Scorpia and MI6 taught me all the lessons I needed to know. Marco watched me lay into them. It was early on a Sunday morning, Marco ran a few pimps in the area, protection or some such shit. He offered me and the girls a bed for the night. Natalie fucked him. He likes boys to play with, you now S&M. He explained the whole scene to me and that as a submissive I was the one with control. Unlike everything else in my life, it got my head into a better place. Showed me I was strong. He was kind and patient. I think he really liked me." Alex moved his chair closer to Yassen. "Stripping was a means to independence. I did not want a full time master. Too much like a relationship for me to handle. I could have got a rich sugar daddy, being sixteen and virginal, well mostly. The actuality of openning up to a stranger was just not going to happen. So I worked stripping in Marco's hardcore S&M club. I have a high pain threshold and I'm good at keeping still. I have an excellent memory and I'm fit and flexible. Dancing or the bastardise version of dancing around a pole was not hard. I had a fake ID saying I was 19, and I earned good tips. So I let the johns have a few private dances. It was all controlled. No touching or damaging the merchandise or one of Marco's bouncers would kick your face in. The did it too a few sickos. Stopped the bastrads coming back as well. I didn't just strip for Marco. Other odd jobs. Marco was testing me. If I'd stayed I'd have worked my way up. I think Marco wanted me to be a good business man like himself. Marco saw potential in me. He started out on the streets and some hood helped him. Of all the thugs in London I fell in with Marco was not a bad guy. He preferred his whores and strippers not to use. He respected me enough to ask me about work and he knew I was not into anal sex. I was twitchy and closed off emotionally, that he thought I'd been badly abused, sexually. Not the PTSD and torture I got working for that bastard cunt face blunt."

"How did you end up selling your virginity to me, little one?

"You know Yassen, I was still stupid enough to think your virginity, going all the way was meant to mean something. Well after eight months of the round robin of johns and the fact Marco was going to pay me a couple of grand, why not. I was lucky. I got to loose my virginity both topping and bottoming with you darling Yassen. I thought you were dead, but you were the one person who said they loved me and meant it truly madly and deeply."

Yassen smiled "I do love you, more than is proper or safe or rational. You have made me happy for the first time since, since John and I did not love John like I love you. He was a partner someone I trusted implicitly, he confided in me. We were both just working assassins. John could have been a board member of Scorpia. All he had to do was sleep with the bitch Rothman, but he would not betray his Helena. John Rider showed me how to be a man of principal. You Little Alex, melted my heart. Given me purpose beyond surviving each job."

"Have you been waiting to have this discussion since you took me to Russia?" Alex asked taking hold of his lovers hands.

"I wanted to wait until I knew you were happy also. I can see it in your eyes, in how you make love. You are happy for the first time in a long time also."

Alex smiled, "Even in a shit hole like here, doing a shit job interrogating a stupid undercover agent. You, Yassen Gregorovich make this life worth living." At this Alex moved forward and kissed the russian gently, tenderly and with love. Here was the one person in the universe, Alex could relate to, relax with and talk too. Here he was whole and maybe Yassen was too.


	7. Chapter 7

The leader of the special ops team looked out over the thick jungle as he was perched next to the winch operator, as the helicopter skimmed over the tree tops. The mission was the extraction of a missing DEA agent and the destruction of the compound and drug refining facility of the Costa Syndicate. Three helicopters approached their target, to rain death from the skies.

Within ten minutes the unconscious form of Agent Dooby was secured in lead helicopter with the team medic crouched low over him providing emergency first aid. The compound was then leveled by the strategically placed charges, and the fire spread quickly through the wooden structures.

Mark Dooby had talked and talked for days, first to the Drug Cartel, undoing months of undercover work and deep cover placements and then to his debriefing team. Three days, it had taken a mere three days for that Russian bastard to break him. The drugs and pain had been nothing to the dead look in that British kid's eyes as he stood and watched. The agent had wept with relief when he'd woken on the US Frigate's sick bay. He had survived. At the end he would have welcomed death. At that point the questions came thick and fast from the Costas lieutenants. Then the russian and his slave had left. Mark had one brief conversation with Sasha, who had simply stated that Cossack owned him, and that it was OK, better than his life before. The kid had then smiled but the affect did not stop Mark thinking the kid was completely and utterly broken.

The DEA agent had been in hospital back in Miami four glorious days. Just revelling in the bad TV, bad hospital food and the occasional visits from friends and his fellow team mates. He had seen the shrink twice but was still on the high from having survived and been rescued. He was in the middle of watching an Oprah marathon, eating the candies left by his sister when three strangers turned up.

"Agent Dooby, my name is Joe Byrne. I'm Deputy Director of CIA Covert Operations." With a vague wave of the senior agent introduced his two companions "These are Agents Smith and Kowalski. I would like you to look at a few photographs and tell me if you recognise either of the people in them."

The first photographs were slightly blurred and obviously taken with a telephoto lens then there were some mug shots. "Yeah, thats Cossack, the russian interrogator."

"Thanks for that confirmation. Now can you look at these photos." Mark Dooby was passed an interpol missing persons sheet showed a young kid, aged 16 when he disappeared five months previously.

"So the kid is British, Sasha is definitely Alexander John Rider. Jesus that bastard Russian broke him in five months. That kid was so lost, not cold like Cossack but empty. I think the kid frightened me most of all. I thought Cossack was going to do that to me. Make me an empty completely obedient slave." Dooby handed back the page to Byrne. "I don't know where the two of them went. They left the compound about 10 hours before the extraction team." The DEA Agent then looked at the CIA Deputy Director. "Please tell me you can get that kid away from that sick bastard. He beat the kid up and sexually assaulted him in front of me. I..." It was then that Mark's voice broke. The russian had used the kid to get to him and the kid did everything the bastard asked. "The kid, Rider, he was sold to Cossack wasn't he?"

"Yeah, a minor hood in London sold him. The Russian likes school kids it turns out." stated Agent Smith or was it Kowalski flippantly.

"Rider's a lost cause." stated Byrne, "even if we extracted him, he'd only end up in committed to mental health."

"So you just leave him with that sick bastard." exclaimed Mark, outraged and incensed at the injustice of getting him out but leaving a kid at the mercy of a sadist.

"We run under strict budgetary guidelines. We could not begin to chase a ghost like Cossack. We contacted our colleagues in Russia. Even they have no idea about Cossack and his movements." The CIA officials had the information they wanted so they left the DEA agent to contemplate the fact no one cared for a nearly seventeen year old teenager.

...

After 10 days Mark Dooby was back in his apartment and started his internet search for Alex Rider. He quickly was directed to a strange website run by a California teenager which had a sub category called the 'Point Blanc Academy Grade 10 Class of 2001'. It seemed like Alex had been from a wealthy enough family to send him to a school for very bad, very privileged boys considering the names of the other classmates. He clicked on Alex's icon.

_Most details of Alex's life are too tragic to publicise. Orphaned at least three times. Abused, lied to and alienated. Alleged arsonist, thief, runaway, serial truant and if you believe Tom and James, teenage superspy. Listed as missing and assumed dead since August 2003. RIP Alex. We miss you._

Mark noted the name of the website creator. He called in a favour from a friend at the FBI and he had a cell phone number.

"Hi, who is this?"

"Umm, Is that Cassian James?"

"Yeah? who are you and what do you want? My time is precious, I have things to do, units to sell, people to annoy."

"Umm, my name is Mark Dooby. I just wanted to let you know Alex is not dead."

"Alex? As in Alex Friend? AKA Alex Rider."

"Yeah, when I met him in Paraguay he was going by the name Sasha and hanging out with a complete bastard."

"More of a bastard than Marco Spinelli. The pimp who sold Alex to some Russian thug for a couple of grand. Look is the number I'm looking at good to get you back on?"

"Yeah its my home number." confirmed Mark, with growing trepidation.

"A friend of mine, James Sprintz is likely to call you. He is a founder member of the Alex Rider Fan Club, current membership 7 at the moment. I'm member 3, right after James and Tom Harris. Post a message on the website run by Tom Harris. They will want to know details. Thanks for calling."

Mark sensed the kid wanted to talk but wasn't going to over an open line. Paranoid much? He then searched Tom Harris and left a brief email to the email noted on his Alex Rider website, wondering who would contact him first, James Sprintz or Tom Harris. Who was Tom Harris anyway? Not an alumni of Point Blanc Academy.


	8. Chapter 8

Yassen watched as the young man who he had grown to adore walk out of the surf. Alex lay on the beach to regain his breath or maybe warm up, the Pacific was cool and the winter sun in Mexico was pleasantly warm. The house was isolated and the only habitation for several kilometres. The beach occasionally had surfers visit but today Alex was alone. Alex had been surfing all morning as Yassen sat working on the details of his next job. It was an assassination. Yassen picked his employment with even more care since his imprisonment and escape from the British Authorities. He no longer worked for questionable regimes but kept his targets mostly to mafia and drug cartels. Low life targets under the radar of Homeland Security and Intepol. No one cared if there was one less hood in the world. He still did special favours for long term customers. New clients tended to pay better though.

The talk of a honeymoon period amused Yassen, it was if the two of them were comfortable even when silent. They had both seen the worst of each other. Alex expected nothing but welcomed whatever the Russian could give. Yassen had surprised himself by falling so completely in love. He had initially put his feelings down to obsession and a long repressed desire for something more than the job, especially after the fall of Scorpia. He worked for himself alone and now took time to enjoy life. He knew he would have to retire soon. He would disappear and take Alex with him to start somewhere new, completely anonymous.

Alex showered on the deck, stripping off his wetsuit and leaving it to drip dry. With only a thin towel around his waist he moved into the kitchen to rustle up lunch. Alex had got used to living out of store cupboards and freezers. They did not shop or eat in restaurants together. It might be paranoia but Yassen tended to go into public places in disguise and in legend. A pattern of behaviour Alex was starting to copy. He was only Alex really with Yassen. At all other times he was behind masks, hiding or blending into the background, changing his personality and behaviour to mimic the crowd he was in or the place he was. During his trips into Ensenada, the nearest town, Alex could either be a local or a Californian tourist depending on his mood. The young man was happy now with his fluid persinality traits. He was the product of his upbringing and of all the people he had met over the tears, it was only Yassen who he could truly relate to and relax with. He was surprised he had not developed a hernia from the internal tension after Jack had died.

They ate on the deck and the silence was shrilly disturbed by Yassen's sateillite phone. The Russian spoke in Arabic. The conversation short and to the point, probably using a series of code words. Alex did not ask questions and was not the slightest bit curious. If he needed to know Yassen would tell him.

Alex finished his meal and went to lounge in the sun, knowing his lover was again watching him.

Yassen moved to the rear of the house when he note Alex was dozing, with extreme stealth he jogged up the hill out of earshot of Alex. His next phone call was being diverted through several obscure exchanges and via as many satellites. He looked at his watch, he had at most four minutes before the NSA could break through and trace his phone. He had just inserted a new Sim card and would destroy it after he'd finished his talk.

The phone tone rang and an American woman answered, a secretary. Yassen ignored the bright and pleasant greeting and spoke direct and to the point "It is Gregorovich, Byrne wishes to propose a trade."

The pause was brief, a deep American spoke "Mr Gregorovich I did not expect you to get back to me so quickly."

"Cut the polite conversation. Little Alex is not for sale. I do not wish to trade. If you push I will post John's son back to you, one piece at a time with a video of myself removing it. How does that sound, humm?" Yassen smiled to himself. Maybe he should pospone his next job to liquidate a few of Alex's old employers.

"There is no need to threaten, we just want reassurances that you have not extracted any sensitive information from Alex."

"You should be more worried about the files of Harry Bulman, I know that journalist Edward Pleasure has copies. If you wish for me to undertake work for you talk, but I will not trade my personal entertainment. Goodbye, Mr Byrne."

Yassen returned and stood by the deck and called Alex inside. "Pack, we are leaving."

The teenage boy sat on the narrow bunk and played patience. The pack of cards was his only entertainment aboard the tanker on which they had secured a cabin. The crew of Philippinos and the Dutch captain were not interested in the German tourists, father and son, traveling around the world by any and every means possible. The tanker would dock in Amsterdam in three days. The youth considered the journey hell on earth already. He was horny but knew you stayed in legend. Alex or Dieter Lutz was a sullen teenager dressed in Goth clothes and Yassen the jovial, loud Bavaria dressed like a school teacher, Michael Lutz. It was all bad enough to give him nightmares. This legend would stay until they crossed into Poland. Only after the hit they would change identities, dress, language, habits and demeanor for the escape and evade.

Alex wondered if they were returning to Moscow, but knowing Yassen's modus operandi, they would never set foot in that house again. It was probably already sold or rented on.

It was several days later, as they stood practicing targets in the wilderness in south-west Poland that Alex asked the question that had been going around his head. "Yashka, what spooked you in Mexico? Why did we leave in such a hurry?"

Yassen Gregorovich dismantled and cleaned his gun with meticulous precision. "I got a message Joe Byrne wanted to purchase you. He and I had words. I did not even ask what he wanted to trade, I rejected his overtures. I would not sell you for anything my Darling little Alex."

Alex stole forward and for the first time in two weeks to kiss his beloved. The sex that followed was frantic, punishing and over far too fast. Alex moved to clean himself up, when Yassen pulled Alex into the nearby barn, where their tent was pitched. The older man pinned Alex to the ground and proceeded to worship his young lover's body, stripping off his tattered clothes exposing his flesh, despite the chill in the air.

The morning dawned and Alex went into the yard to wash. His neck covered in hickeys. He pulled on his winter coat after retrieving his spare clothes to replace the ones ripped from his body the night before. So much for staying in legend. Mind you, the only voyeurs last night had been the rats in the barn.


	9. Chapter 9

A tall dark haired youth pretended to fix the motorbike on the patch of wasteland located in the outskirts of Warsaw. He put the engine cover back on and gunned the engine. He made a show off putting his tools away in the pannier and then made a slow circuit of the block after checking his watch. He went down the alleyway of a drab apartment building and stopped briefly at the exact spot agreed earlier. A ghost appeared from the shadows dressed in black leathers, with a full helmet masking his head. Gloved hands placed a second tool roll in the pannier and without a word being spoken, they rode away. Four kilometres away on the other side of the city, the industrial units were newly built and yet to be rented. The motorcycle was left at the rear corner of the complex. In different clothes, the two men drove off in a Fiat which had seen better days.

Many miles south, over the border into Romania, a sack of clothes were doused in petrol and burnt, the ashes were buried for good measure.

"Where are we going next, Cossack?" inquired the young dark haired man as they walked into town to catch a bus to Bucharest.

The older of the pair smiled wistfully, "Venice. I wish to show you the city that I love. You and I will act like complete tourists eat , drink, shop and make love."

Alex left his face expressionless. His time at the Widow's Palace had scarred him deeply and he was unsure of returning there. Not that there was any Scorpia anymore to be vary of.

Yassen watched as Alex bit his nails, a habit he had thought his lover had grown out of. His hand pulled Alex's fingers out of his mouth. "You have nothing to worry about. This is a holiday. You will enjoy yourself, but only if you left yourself."

...

Alex had expected five star luxury all the way, but as usual Yassen never did anything you'd expect. The russian grinned proud as punch as he opened the door on a poky room on the fourth floor in a tenement tucked down a grotty side alley. A bare floor, two chairs, a small table and the smallest kitchen Alex had ever seen, two rings a small oven and pans hanging from the ceiling and a small shelf with utensils and crockery.

"Basic. Where do we sleep? In hammocks?" inquired Alex as he moved to open the shutters. Hoping there was a spectacular view, which turned out to be of the wall opposite, complete with crumbling stucco and weeds trailing down from the guttering. "Are we staying long.? It could do with a freshen up, a coat of paint and some homely touches would work wonders. Is there a market near by?"

Yassen chuckled and opened a large cupboard on the wall opposite. He lowered down a hidden bed. There was pillows and bedding also stored. "I bought this with the first paycheck from working freelance. Here I come when I want to feel normal. After training I never returned to Malagosto, but at least once a year I came to Venice. More my home than Moscow."

Alex looked at the bed and then at his lover. What better way to start your hilday than getting shagged senseless.

...

Both of them were dressed down as worldly tourists seeing the real Venice rather than the crowded Plazas and cafes on the Grand Canal, Rialto Bridge or St. Mark's square. The markets and small shops were Alex's favourites. In this crowded city, they could walk hand in hand as a couple, one of the hundreds here in the most romantic destination. Yassen took Alex to his favourite corners, all out of they way, unusual and most passed by by both tourist and local alike. They broke into abandoned palaces and danced. Studied frescos and sculpture in small chapels and churches. Ate the food of the natives and drank the local wine.

Alex spoke of his visit to Venice and Naples after Yassen's near fatal shooting. Yassen listened to the careful and diabolical actions of Julia Rothman. Even after fourteen years she wanted revenge on John Rider. Revenge on the man who had jilted her. The woman was a fool. John had flirted with the Scorpia director but had always stated he was married. Hunter had been a strange man, once you gained his allegiance, he was a true friend. A man who could wear many faces, follow many masters, have the ability to juggle three lives, assassin, family and patriot. The man had been true to each in turn. In many ways Yassen admired John more than any other man. He could be cold and deadly, Warm and living and crafty and sneaky. Yaseen taught Alex the true nature of living a as a person outside of normal society, an underclass who could change at will. The Russian mused on the actions of Ian Rider, had he really been trying to make the ultimate spy for MI6 in his actions bringing up Alex or had he wanted to shape the boy into being a copy of John.

As the fated lovers lay in bed. If you lay down a small patch of sky was visible from the open window. Alex snuggled closer to Yassen's warm hard body. "Can you forgive me for sending you to Malagosto? The school was my first home since my parent's deaths. Maybe I view it with rose coloured spectacles."

"I learned a lot, loads more than the little MI6 bothered to teach me. I survived I think because of Malagosto. It made me harder, I was an adult after I trained there. I think if they'd treated me like a serious prospect I'd have settled in and been an assasin. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret killing Niles and that Rothman bitch."

"I do not blame you or I completely understand your actions, little Alex. I have just one criticism. You should have made them suffer. I think you need a refresher on techniques for inflicting pain. Hunter was quite gifted in this area. More than one of our targets suffered at his hands,"

"No more talk of Malagosto." Alex sat up and moved to sit astride Yassen, He leaned over and kissed his beloved, his reason for living. Coming to Venice, Alex had laid some ghosts of his past behind. He had fallen for the russian assassin and his way of life.


End file.
